


Muses

by PepperPrints



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 23:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8509732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: “I can be helpful,” HR insists immediately, and with a very stern sincerity. “I’m incredibly helpful.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does contain references to Cisco/Harry and Cisco/Eobard -- the latter more explicitly. I decided not to tag for them, as not to disappoint people digging into those tags for actual pairing content. I know a lot of people like Cisco with Harrison(s) and not with Eobard, so I really hope this isn't a deterrent! The main focus is his relationship with HR and getting over Eobard.
> 
> There's no real warnings for this, except for the references to Cisco's relationship with Eobard, if that rubs you the wrong way. However! It's all very mild.
> 
> This is also for Erika -- isn't everything?

“San Francisco,” HR greets cheerfully as he enters the workshop, and the sound of it grates. Cisco sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, and he doesn’t bother looking up.

 

“What do you want?” he asks in an undertone, still fiddling with his work. “I’m kind of busy.”

 

It turns out that’s the wrong thing to say, since HR just rushes forward with even more enthusiasm. “Oh, what’s this?” he asks, his eyes widening as the realization comes. “Oh! These are your…” HR puts his thumbs and forefingers together, making circles out of his hands and cupping them against his eyes. “Your goggles! Your secret weapon! For your… what are they called again? Signs?” 

 

“Vibes,” Cisco corrects irritably. 

 

“Vibes,” HR repeats, as if to commit the notion to memory. “Of course. So. Tell me. How does that work, exactly?”

 

Sighing, Cisco gives him a look. Cisco doesn’t really know why he bothers. It isn’t as if he’s never going to give HR a chance -- if that were the case, he’d have sent him back to his Earth already -- but he’s defending his right to be sour for a little while as things settle down. “Well, that’s the issue: I don’t really have a handle on it yet,” he explains, and he smiles at HR just a little mockingly. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out -- and, you know, if you were a scientist, that’d be super helpful. But you’re not, so…”

 

“I can be helpful,” HR insists immediately, and a very stern sincerity. “I’m incredibly helpful.”

 

“Right,” Cisco scoffs disbelievingly. “You know, the other Wells made these? And he was actually a genius. So unless you think you know something he doesn’t…”

 

Cisco trails off purposefully, figuring the unsaid implication is more than enough. HR makes a face: it’s an almost exaggerated pout, and he taps one drumstick thoughtfully against his palm. “What’s the theory?”

 

“Huh?” Cisco intones.

 

“The theory. Behind the goggles,” HR elaborates, spinning the sticks between his fingers. “I read the files. You touch things; you have visions. But what do the goggles do?”

 

Frowning, Cisco debates not even justifying the statement with an answer. Instead, he decides to humor him. “The other Wells -- Harry. Harry figured out that my vibes tie into the fear center of my brain -- that it’s an adrenaline response. The goggles simulate that, so it’s easier to focus,” Cisco explains, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s still unreliable, but it usually works.”

 

Humming in a loud, overly exaggerated thoughtfulness, HR presses the drumstick against his lips. He squints, tapping and tapping, before he speaks. “Good. That’s very good, but -- hear me out here: what if it’s backwards?” he asks abruptly. 

 

Cisco just stares at him for a moment, and HR elaborates. “Fear is a great stimulant,” he agrees. “Don’t get me wrong. However!” He slaps the table with his drumstick loudly, and Cisco winces. “Fight or flight is exactly that: flighty! It could be the reason that your vibes are unreliable, is that you’re relying on a nervous response -- rather than a concentrated one.”

 

Scoffing, Cisco shakes his head. He opens his mouth, fully ready to deride him. “That…” he starts snidely, then he pauses. As he thinks about it, his voice softens. “That… actually kind of makes sense.”

 

“Muse!” HR declares proudly, bowing at his middle. “At your service.”

 

Cisco flusters a little. He peers down at the goggles, pausing in his tinkering. “Okay. Well. That’s all good. But it’s easier said than done that I reprogram the entire system…”

 

“Oh, no no,” HR says quickly, holding up his hand disarmingly. “Leave the goggles! They’re good -- great -- better than. I feel like your focus should be here!” 

 

HR taps his own chest in demonstration, all very dramatic about it. Cisco just stares at him, and HR elaborates. “Back on my Earth, we meditate. Do you meditate on this Earth?” When Cisco gives him a disbelieving look, he continues. “Of course you do. Right! My point being: if you make that a good practice, you can empty your mind, clear your focus, and address some of your… anxieties, that may be an obstacle.”

 

Shrugging, HR grins at him. “It’s just a theory, you know,” he says easily. “I’m no scientist.” 

 

\--

 

Cisco doesn’t want to admit that it’s a good idea. He knows he’s just hung up on being disappointed in HR -- like every man sharing that face before him -- and it’s no reason to disregard a perfectly good theory. Harry is a genius, but Cisco is very aware that he can tunnel vision on things. Once the fear notion came into his head, he fixated on that: he probably just didn’t think about an alternative once he thought he cracked the code to Cisco’s powers. 

 

There’s also the idea that Harry has probably never thought about meditation once at all in his whole high-strung life.

 

Cisco decides to give it a shot. What can it hurt? He gathers up some pillows, making himself a cozy spot on workshop floor, and he settles down with his legs crossed. He read up enough to know the routine: breathe in, breathe out, counting each one, and let everything just… fade.

 

Which sounds more easily said than done. Thoughts come pestering through, and that’s only natural. He thinks about Barry, Dante, and most annoyingly about HR. Every time, he does what the articles advised him to: just acknowledge the intrusion, let it fade, and start counting again.

 

It gets easier every time he does it. The pattern gets easier and his counting gets higher, until a point where he’s not consciously counting at all. He’s just breathing, slow and steady, and there’s nothing nagging in his skull at all.

 

Along the way, something starts to shift. He feels funny, as if the room around him is suddenly bottomless. He sways, feeling uneasy, and he isn’t sure how to place the oddity. Despite all instinct, he opens his eyes, and he realizes the source of the sensation.

 

He’s vibing, and it’s different. There’s something unique to this, different from his other experiences. The world around him is still fluctuating, full of mist, but there’s no specific focal point. He’s just… idle, as if he’s sitting in a world of his own, with no particular crisis demanding his attention.

 

Cisco finds himself smiling, his chest swelling with a newfound delight. It’s hard to believe that HR was actually on to something. It’s peaceful here. Now that he’s in this space, if he focused, would he be able to center his powers with more accuracy? The tranquility of this place gives a sort of confidence, as if he’ll have more control -- rather than being swept up in one particular source.

 

“I told you: you have a greatness in you.”

 

What?

 

Cisco suddenly turns his focus forward. This serene space is suddenly not his alone, as a man in a yellow suit sits cross legged in front of him.

 

“Hello, Cisco,” Eobard Thawne greets, smiling too warmly.

 

Cisco is startled into awareness by the sound of his own shout. He jerks where he sits, catching himself as if he might topple over, and his heartbeat quickens. What -- what was that? Cisco brushes his hair back out of his face, glancing around the room in a sudden paranoia -- but he’s alone.

 

Well, relatively. HR comes rushing through the doorway, wielding his drumsticks like he’s ready to smash them into someone’s skull. “I heard shouting!” he announces, raising his voice himself. “Why are we shouting?!”

 

Cisco blinks at him, shaking his head as if to shake the vision off of his mind. “Nothing. It’s fine -- it’s just me,” he says quickly, climbing to his feet and rearranging his clothes.

 

Gaze scanning the room, HR seems to take quick inventory of what he’s looking at. “Did you meditate?” he asks, his voice quickening with a sudden eagerness. “How did it go? Did you have a vision?”

 

“Vibe,” Cisco corrects firmly. “And… I -- don’t know.”

 

Is that lying? Cisco isn’t sure. Thawne didn’t feel like a vibe -- not in the premonition sort of sense. Either way, he isn’t really inclined to disclose that to HR… who is looking very thoughtful.

 

“Are you sure?” he presses.

 

“I’m sure,” insists Cisco curtly, and HR doesn’t seem swayed.

 

“Because… I wonder,” he starts, tilting his head as he looks at Cisco before he shakes his head. “Mh. Never mind! I’ll leave you to it, San Francisco!”

 

With that, he’s gone, and Cisco stares after him, frowning to himself.

 

Does that mean what he thinks it means?

 

\--

 

He takes a day to think about it. The last time he saw Eobard Thawne, the man himself appeared. He killed innocent people, threatened Barry, and nearly cost Cisco his very existence in this timeline. At the same time, raising up the alarm bells again feels premature. This experience feels… different, somehow. It isn’t the same detached experience he has with his vibes: where he’s simply a viewer to events; Thawne appeared just to speak to him… 

 

Settling himself back on his very cushy pile of pillows, he tries again. It’s harder to get himself focused this time. His mind is buzzing with the idea of Eobard Thawne, and the vision too well timed with HR’s arrival. Gradually, as he counts his breaths, he drifts again, and when he opens his eyes…

 

Thawne is sitting very much in the same way Cisco is: legs crossed, hands resting on his knees. It is him -- the suit makes him unmistakable, even if he’s sharing someone else’s face.

 

“Hello again,” Thawne says, just a bit teasingly, and Cisco swallows his nerves.

 

“What’s happening?” he asks slowly, smothering down his fear. “What are you doing here?”

 

“That’s a very vague accusation, but,” Thawne begins, obliging with a tap of his fingertip against his temple, “are you really surprised that I’m  _ here _ ?”

 

The implication takes awhile to click. Cisco stares at him, and Thawne sighs as he elaborates. “That other one... what’s he calling himself? HR? He mentioned meditation to you: clearing your mind, finding some peace, confronting your obstacles…” Thawne shrugs. “Given your particular gifts, Cisco, it makes sense that your anxieties manifest in a very… visual way, wouldn’t you think?”

 

Cisco winces slightly, though there’s some relief mixed with his dread. “So you’re… just in my head; you’re not real,” he concludes cautiously.

 

“Oh, your fears are very real, Cisco,” Thawne counters plainly. “But to be more upfront: no. I’m not  _ actually _ real.” 

 

“Dios mio,” Cisco groans, then mutters, tension bleeding out of him. “Thank God.”

 

Thawne laughs at that, showing his teeth. “Is it really such a relief, Cisco?” he asks curiously. “Do you think you’d be seeing me at all, if I didn’t represent a very… prominent issue?” 

 

Chest twisting, Cisco narrows his eyes. “Well, I don’t care that you’re here,” he tells him outright. “That’s what this is for, right? So I can tell you so to your face and kick you out of my subconscious?” Cisco works his jaw, putting on a stern face before waving at Thawne in an ushering gesture. “So, there you go: we’re done here! Buzz off.”

 

Thawne just gives him a look. He scans Cisco up and down, and makes a tsking sound. “Oh, Cisco,” he sighs, as if he’s disappointed. “You know better; this is much bigger than that.”

 

Cisco almost demands that he elaborate, but Thawne cuts him off. He inhales purposefully, and then he grins. “You better go, before that gets cold.”

 

Huh? 

 

Cisco sniffs too, and it’s enough to break his focus. He comes back, and the workshop is just full of the greasy, delicious smell of food. He lifts his head, finding a big bag of Big Belly Burger resting on his desk, and a note taped to it.

 

_ Didn’t want to wake you!! :) Thought you’d have an appetite. Did you know this Earth has CURLY fries? Curly! Amazing!!! :) _

 

Beneath that, HR has scribbled several swirls, as if to drive the point home. Despite himself, Cisco feels an odd touch of endearment, and he takes the bag with him on his way out.

 

\--

 

He finds HR in the Cortex, though he doesn’t spot him right away… given how he’s completely collapsed on top of the desk. Cisco tentatively approaches him, having the forethought to set his soda down before he calls his name.

 

“HR?” he tries, and there’s no answer. Cisco squints, reaching nervously to give his shoulder a little shake. “HR?”

 

Shooting upright, HR blurts a startled shout. He whips his head around, trying to make sense of his surroundings, before he focused on Cisco. “Oh. San Francisco,” he says in realization.

 

“Please stop calling me that,” Cisco entreats. It got tired after the second time he heard it, but HR doesn’t even acknowledge that Cisco said anything.

 

“Oh man,” he sighs, giving his own cheek a little slap. “Caffeine! Wouldn’t you know it? It’s a magical thing, and I was able to get so much done. Then, I wasn’t even thinking and I just… bam! Brick wall!” He claps his hands together in demonstration. “I never thought you could have too much of a good thing.”

 

“Yeah, you definitely can,” Cisco assures him gravely, hoisting HR up by his arm. “You’re crashing. Come on. You should sleep… not at a desk.”

 

HR makes a complaining sound, wobbling a little on his feet. “You’re too kind,” he emphasizes sweetly. “Does anyone ever tell you that?”

 

“Nope,” Cisco replies dryly, voice drawling. “You’re the first.”

 

Maybe it’s the mix of exhaustion and high-strung caffeinated nerves, but HR apparently can’t read his sarcasm. “Oh no,” he groans dramatically, as if that’s the greatest crime he’s ever heard. “That can’t be…! San Francisco is everybody’s favorite city!”

 

Apparently cheesey city slogans are a constant through the multiverse. Rolling his eyes, Cisco just guides HR away. There’s a couple of bunks scattered throughout the labs and he drops HR into the closest one. “Get some sleep,” he advises, meaning to pull away, but HR’s hand snags his wrist. 

 

“I mean it,” HR stresses, seeming halfway to passing out already.

 

Cisco lingers, finding himself uncertain of what to say. Tiredness slackens HR’s grip, and his hand lowers back onto the bunk gradually. Nestling down, he succumbs with a sigh, and Cisco is left feeling oddly out of sorts.

 

\--

 

His next endeavor into meditation isn’t very reassuring.

 

“Why are you still here?” Cisco asks defeatedly.

 

Thawne looks smug as he sits in front of Cisco. Chuckling at Cisco’s immediate exasperation, he tilts his head as he looks at him. “I told you already,” he reminds. “You need to face your obstacles.”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Cisco insists angrily. “I told you to go. But you’re still here!”

 

The solution could be to stop the idea of meditating altogether, but that sounds too much like running away. This image of Thawne isn’t real; he’s just a manifestation of Cisco’s… Cisco’s what, exactly? His fear of Thawne? That reaction seems only justified, and he feels right to keep his concerns. Besides, he’s confronted him once before, so what’s really left unsaid?

 

“Denying it to yourself isn’t helping,” Thawne chastises.

 

Cisco folds his arms across his chest. Acting defiant clearly isn’t gaining him much, but he doesn’t know what else to do. “Denying what?” he asks at last.

 

Thawne smirks faintly. “Cisco,” he says slowly. “Come on. We’re both too smart for this routine.” 

 

 

\--

 

“Going home so soon?” HR asks, seeming too eager to keep at Cisco’s heels. “I brought you a coffee!” HR quickly raises his spare hand to his heart. “Just coffee for everyone else! None for me. I think I need to take a step back before I get, ah, overzealous again.”

 

“Oh, thanks,” Cisco says, and it’s actually a little more genuine this time. “Really. Uh. I actually might need this.” Cisco grins a little. “I’m uh, marathoning both Ghostbusters movies before I watch the reboot tonight.”

 

Cisco isn’t sure what he expects, but HR just blinks at him. “Right,” he says belatedly, grinning a bit. “Because you’ll be up late because three movies takes a long time! Three movies, right? It’s three?”

 

It dawns on Cisco, and his eyes go wide. “Wait. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

 

“Psh,” intones HR, laughing as if it’s obvious, but then he just shifts his weight foot to foot, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

 

“Oh my God,” Cisco says thickly. “You’ve never seen Ghostbusters?” 

 

The awkward, half sort of shrug is all Cisco needs. He grabs HR by his arm, and he drags him down to the section of the lab with the projector in it. “Oh!” HR gasps cheerfully. “Oh, are we bonding?!” 

 

“We’re watching one of the greatest pieces of comedic cinema in the world,” Cisco informs him bluntly. “So… yeah. Sure. We’re bonding.”

 

HR practically glows with delight. “Fantastic! I can’t wait. Let’s do this properly, shall we? What’s a movie night without snacks? Where do you keep your crackers?” 

 

When Cisco gives him a look, HR keeps blabbing. “Or… whatever you people on this Earth eat when you watch movies. Not crackers, maybe? I’m partial to sunflower seeds if that’s also… oh, also not right? Okay. Well. Let’s have you pick, then. That sounds good. Great. I love bonding.”

 

\--

 

The coffee clearly isn’t enough, because Cisco’s drifting off before he realizes. It’s Thawne’s voice that brings him up to focus, and his tone carries a laugh.

 

“I love this movie,” he tells Cisco sincerely, digging into the bowl of popcorn in his lap. “But I never could get over how much butter you use.”

 

Cisco groans loudly. “Are you kidding me -- for real?” Cisco asks when he comes to focus. “I’m not even meditating -- I just passed out!” 

 

“Seems I’m a more pressing issue than you realize,” Thawne reasons, flicking popcorn into his mouth. “Wonder why that is?” 

 

Thawne doesn’t even wait for Cisco to reply. “You dug me up. Now you have to deal with me,” he explains, leaning back leisurely. “Or I’m just going to be more and more difficult -- more and more prominent on the edge of your subconscious..”

 

“But I don’t care!” Cisco blurts in exasperation. “I don’t know why you’re here! I told you I don’t care. I said so already, and…”

 

Cisco trails off, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears, and he feels his skin heat. Thawne sighs, shuffling forward, and his smile is almost entreating. “But you do care,” he points out, more matter-of-fact than boasting. “That’s the issue.”

 

Cisco wavers slightly, his hands clenching against the material of his jeans, and he holds his tongue. “You’re denying it to yourself, but you care about me,” Thawne states simply. “You care about the second Harrison Wells you knew, and you want to care about this one too.”

 

The accusation burns. Cisco clenches his jaw, and he lowers his gaze. “And,” Thawne continues, drawling, “because of your feelings for me, you didn’t let yourself have feelings for the first one, and you’re doing the same for the second.”

 

“Because it isn’t fair!” Cisco blurts before he even realizes. 

 

Once the notion’s out, he’s practically tripping over himself to get the feeling out. His chest swells, fit to burst, and he can’t stop. “It isn’t fair to them! Because if I did, if I said anything to Harry -- he’d just think it was because of you! Because he looks like you! And HR is… double that! Nobody’s that stupid; they’d figure it out… and how do you think that’d make them feel? Thinking I’m just interested because they share a face with a murderer?”

 

Cheeks heating, Cisco scowls and bows his head. It must say something, if he’s feeling this embarrassed by his own subconscious. Still, he can’t bring himself to look at this image of Thawne, even as his gloved hand cups Cisco’s cheek.

 

“I fear you may be thinking of things in the wrong way,” Thawne continues. “You know how malleable the multiverse is now; how twisted up things become… how vague the definition of who you should be with becomes.”

 

Cisco at last looks up, squinting at Thawne, uncomprehending. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I mean,” Thawne reiterates. “Maybe it isn’t that they look like me; it’s that  _ I _ look like  _ them _ .”

 

Blinking, Cisco straightens himself slightly, and Thawne keeps speaking. “You hadn’t met this man yet,” he reasons. “But qualities of him existed in myself, and existed in the one who came after me. We were all just attractive elements, just pieces of a puzzle, leading to something actually complete -- something without my or the other’s less-than-desirable side-effects.”

 

“And that’s HR?” Cisco asks skeptically, grinning wryly, and Thawne’s shoulders shrug.

 

“Maybe,” he reasons. “Maybe not. But until you accept what I meant to you, you won’t be able to move on and find out.”

 

There’s a pause then, and even when Cisco can tell what’s coming, hearing it still cuts at the core of him. “I loved you, Cisco,” Thawne reminds softly.

 

It twists to hear it. He winces, eyes squeezed shut, and he has to answer. “I loved you too,” Cisco admits weakly.

 

Rolling his thumb, Thawne skims away some dampness from Cisco’s cheek and he chuckles with a soft smile.

 

“That’s it,” he announces simply. “That’s all you needed to say.”

 

\--

 

Cisco stirs, and he finds himself leaning very heavily into HR’s side. The realization is half-flustering, and half-endearing, considering how still the other man has been sitting.

 

“Are you up?” HR asks in a very obvious stage-whisper. He twists himself at an odd angle, trying to see Cisco’s face. “Oh, you are!”

 

“Yeah, hey,” he greets sheepishly, squinting a little at the light of the screen. Credits are rolling, and he groans in realization. “Ah. I missed it.”

 

“You did,” agrees HR seriously. “And what a show you missed! It had everything: romance, drama, humor, science fiction…” HR trails off, and Cisco chuckles, straightening up.

 

“Glad you liked it,” he says sincerely, rubbing tiredly at his face. 

 

“Well. Actually,” HR starts sheepishly, shuffling on the couch where he sits. “I have to admit something…”

 

Oh great. Cisco’s posture slumps, and he can guess what HR is getting at. “You actually didn’t like it?” he guesses bluntly, and HR’s face scrunches.

 

“Oh no, not that. I just, uh... “ HR huffs out a breath, peering at Cisco meekly. “I have seen it before; we do have Ghostbusters on my Earth. I just… I wanted to spend some time with you.”

 

HR looks like he’s braced to get punched in the face. When it doesn’t come and Cisco chuckles instead, he looks at Cisco curiously. “You’re not mad?” he asks.

 

“No,” he says seriously. “No, that’s… nice of you, actually.” Cisco raises one finger sternly. “But that’s the last time! No more… sneaky talk! Just be honest. If you wanted to join me, I would have let you.” 

 

HR nods repeatedly, pressing his hands together like a prayer. “I understand completely,” he assures Cisco earnestly, bowing his head respectfully. “I promise. Complete transparency from this moment on. Word is bond.”

 

Despite himself, Cisco grins weakly, just in one corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, he leans forward towards the coffee table. “Does Earth-19 have the reboot?” he asks, reaching for the remote control. “Because I still want to watch that.”

 

“By all means,” HR replies happily, scooping the bowl up in his arms, “I’ll go pop us some more corns.”

 

HR hops off the couch, hurrying off towards the kitchen as Cisco vaguely calls after him. “That’s not how -- nobody talks like that,” he tries to explain, but he doesn’t bother. Cisco trails off, sighing as he flops back against the couch. HR returns soon enough, placing the half-kernel filled bowl on the table in front of them.

 

“On the topic of transparency,” HR adds, glancing at Cisco a bit hopefully. “This isn’t exactly deceitful, but I want you to know… since I offered my services as a muse to you.”

 

Yeah, and it was awkward, Cisco mentally retorts, but he lets HR keep speaking.

 

“However,” he adds, settling onto the couch next to Cisco. “I came here, hoping to write an epic about the Flash, and yet… I find myself writing more and more about you. There’s just… so much to you; I see it already, every day. So, in that sense… you’re something of a muse to me, Cisco Ramon, and I’d very much like your permission to tell your story.”

 

Cisco stares. HR almost seems shy as he says this, very purposefully avoiding Cisco’s gaze. It’s odd to see him so sheepish, and it strikes a chord that Cisco doesn’t expect.

 

“Hey,” he says, getting HR to look up, and when he does, he shuffles a little closer.

 

It’s easy to lean forward on the couch, just enough to touch his lips to HR’s. Cisco doesn’t put much flair into it -- too much seems like an overstep. He touches HR’s shoulder, bracing there as he very softly kisses him, just barely dipping into his mouth with his tongue. He does it gently, lingering just by the smallest measure, before he pulls away again. 

 

HR stays frozen for a second, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, before he finally reacts. “Oh,” he says thickly, shivering like he’s got chills. “Oh wow. That was… something…”

 

Cisco sinks. He can’t believe this… “Come on. Are you kidding me?” he asks defeatedly. “Do you not kiss on Earth-19?”

 

“Huh? Oh. Oh no,” HR says quickly. “Oh, we do. Of course we do. That was just… exceptionally nice. That’s all.”

 

That’s all.

 

Somehow, something so small has such an impact. Cisco’s chest swells, and his lips turn upward. Chuckling, he shakes his head, and watches the movie while tucked against HR’s side.


End file.
